


Forbidden Muse

by mizzdee



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Reference, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzdee/pseuds/mizzdee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bella is a young artist getting ready for her first solo show but she's lost her vision. When she meets the owner of the pizza shop across the street, he becomes her inspiration as her attraction to him changes the look and feel of her paintings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Muse

**Author's Note:**

> Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I own nothing but this plot and, hopefully soon, the painting described in the end.

“It’s useless!” I yelled as I threw my color palette across the room letting paint fly where it may. “I’m never going to get these done in time.” The brushes went flying next as I turned away from the canvas and tried to get a handle on my frustration.

The clicking of high heels on the floor told me I wasn’t alone anymore. I knew who it was without looking, so I didn’t bother to turn around and acknowledge her presence. I continued to pack up my supplies to put an end to _another_ wasted day.

“So, are you going to ignore me all day, or are you going to tell me why you’re giving the walls another paint job?” She didn’t even try to hide her humor as she tapped her toe against the floor, waiting for an answer.

“Not now, Rosalie. I’m not in the mood.” My warning tone should have been enough to make her back off but she had her own ferocious streak in her that allowed her to stand her ground.

“I’ve seen it before, Bella, and you don’t scare me one bit. You might as well say it so you can move on and skip the brooding that’s about to take place.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to face the middle of my apartment where she stood with her smug smile plastered on her face. I’d seen that look a million times before and it irked me just as much now as it did every other time she wore that expression.

“Rosalie, do you realize how far behind I am? I have three weeks until the opening and I have twelve pieces left to finish. I’m never going to finish in time. You shouldn’t have scheduled this show. I’m going to be humiliated.” The final brush in my hand flew across the room, smashing against the wall and landing with faint thump on my pillow. _Great, just what I need._

“Bella this is your first solo show. It’s normal to be nervous, but you can’t let that get in the way of the brilliance that’s inside that pretty little head of yours.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not facing this deadline; I am!”

“My reputation is on the line here just as much as yours, Bella. Don’t think for one second that you’re the only one with something at stake here.”

I sunk into the worn couch that sat against the far wall of my apartment; she had a point. Rosalie Hale had fought tooth and nail to make a name for herself in the art community. She had her fingers in all areas of the business from dealing with insanely sensitive artists like myself, to brokering high dollar art deals with both private and non-private buyers, to being a silent partner in one of the biggest art galleries in the city. She was one of the biggest art dealers around, and she was known for finding new and refreshing young artists and helping them make a name for themselves. That was why I hired her.

“Look, I know you’ve put yourself on the line for me and I appreciate it more than you know, but I’ve got eight pieces done and I’m on the hook for twenty. I’ve completely lost my vision and I’ve been wasting every blank canvas within my reach for the past two weeks trying to come up with anything that will be worthy of this show.” I brought my paint-covered hands to my face to muffle the aggravated scream that needed to be released.

She came closer and squatted in front of me. She never touched anything here because she was always afraid of ending up with paint spots on her pristine outfits. “Bella, I came here today to show you the completed flyers for the show but now I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “You have to find a way to get back to your beginning, to find the girl who loved to paint and bring _her_ out. It’s that girl who’s going to get you through this.”

She stood up and made her way to the door, leaving me alone with her final words. She was always good at parting with some kind of lasting wisdom that made me think. I sat on the couch and let the darkness of the dying day envelop me as I erased my mind in an attempt to bring back the old me.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~

Waking up on the couch with a kink in my neck wasn’t the way to start a day in search of the old me. I got up and showered, letting the hot water run down my body to relax my knotted muscles. I stood there longer than I intended and, when the water ran cold, my head snapped up as I remembered what made me… _me_.

The water was turned off and I grabbed my towel to dry myself before I stepped into my paint-stained sweats and t-shirt to bring _me_ back to life. I combed through my hair on my way to the main room of my studio apartment and wrapped it in a messy bun to keep it out of my way. There was nothing worse than trying to wash dried paint out of your hair.

I set up a new canvas and pulled out my supplies to get ready to work. Now for the one thing that had been missing for the last month…people. I realized, standing under that stream of water, that as my frustration grew, I stopped staring out the windows, stopped viewing the scenery and stopped watching the people because I didn’t want any of that distracting me. My work centered on real life landscapes and images that captured a moment in time, but I started adding people to the canvas when I realized the depth they added to each piece of work.

I threw open the curtains covering the picture window and grinned like the ten-year-old girl who’d picked up her first paintbrush all those years ago. I picked this apartment for a reason and as the sunlight filled the room, I looked down at the empty street that would be teeming with people in a matter of hours. For now, the emptiness was perfect so I could get an unobstructed view of the storefronts to bring the details, usually blocked by the crowd, to life. My second story apartment gave me the perfect view, it was close enough to see perfect detail and it was far enough that no one bothered to look up and notice that I was watching.

I watched a man wiping off the patio tables at the pizzeria across the street. The scene was simple and would give me my first setting. The small wrought-iron table with a glass top and two matching chairs would be the center of my piece. I would fuse it with a background of a blossoming pink rose bush, a dazzling, fiery orange sky and in the middle of the table would be a single, simple white rose. A young couple soaking up this scene would be drawn in later. The details needed to come first. I took out my sketchbook so I could capture the intricate design flowing through the legs of the table and chairs before the first customers of the day covered them up.

With that task done, I scanned the view and my eyes fell on the small patch of grass that city officials had the nerve to call a park next to the apartment building half a block away. There were a few wooden benches, picnic tables and the smallest play area for kids I had ever seen. I had just the right backdrop for this one; a coming downpour chasing away a small family as they ran away to keep from getting drenched.

The images started to fall into place and I was able to sketch the scenes of seven of the twelve paintings I would need for the show. I hadn’t realized the time it took to pull those scenes together until my stomach growled at me incessantly. I gave in and paused my work to order some pizza from the place across the street. While I was placing my order, I left the money on the table by the door for Alec, the delivery boy, so he could just open up the door and drop off my order like always. As soon as the phone was out of my hand, I got back to work mixing the colors I would need for the first painting.

The backdrop came first and the burning orange color of the sunset came out perfectly. The greenery of the rosebush went in next, blending with the sunset beautifully. The details were coming together quickly and, if I worked through the night, I could have this piece done by morning. I was cutting the petal of the first flower onto the canvas when the knock on the door startled me.

“Shit!” I yelled as my hand slipped, creating a four-inch long rose petal. Alec knew by now not to knock on my door, so what in the hell was he doing. “It’s open!” I screamed towards the door.

I grabbed the knife I used to fix my errors and put it to the canvas so I could clear away my mistake. My hand slowly started to move up the canvas to remove the paint when a second knock on the door caused another jerk that cut the petal in half. Thoroughly frustrated, I cut through paint to remove the entire flower so I could start again. When it was gone, I threw the knife back into the supply drawer and stomped to the door, hollering at Alec the whole way.

“What the hell, Alec? After all the fucking times you delivered to me, you pick _now_ to knock. You know not to bother me so just …” I ripped open the door and showed my annoyance by throwing the money at him.

What I didn’t expect was the shocked face that stared back at me. I instantly felt my face turn red as the man in front of me turned his own shade of red, but his came from anger. I was speechless for a minute as we stared at each other and then his angry tone broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Mrs.,” he paused to look at the ticket, “Swan. If this is the way you treat my employees, then I will not allow them to deliver to this address any longer.”

He handed me the pizza box and bent down to pick up the money littering the floor. I quickly placed the box on the table and bent down to help him.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that Alec and I have an understanding and he doesn’t normally knock.” I stood up with a few dollars in my hand. “I didn’t mean to get so angry but the unexpected knock on the door caused me to mess up my work. I’m already so far behind as it is that I didn’t…never mind.” I didn’t know why I was explaining this to him so I just quit with a shake of my head. “Will you please accept my apology?”

“Work?” His eyes scanned me from head to toe, obviously seeing my paint-covered clothes, before meeting my eyes again. “So you’re an artist? A painter?”

He didn’t seem so angry when he spoke this time so maybe I was off the hook. “Yeah and I’m so far from meeting my deadline that even the smallest mistake takes more time than I have to fix it.” I blew a strand of hair out of my face. “Please talk to Alec, he’ll tell you I’m not normally like this.”

He smiled, revealing his gleaming white teeth that contrasted beautifully with his slightly tanned skin. “I understand the pressure of a deadline, so I won’t keep you. I apologize for jumping to conclusions, Mrs. Swan.”

I handed him the money in my hand and my fingers grazed his skin; the shock was like touching a live wire. His hand grasped mine firmly and his green eyes bore into mine. We were both lost in the moment until the slamming of the main door on the first floor broke the intensity building between us that had unconsciously drawn us closer together.

“It’s Ms.,” I said with a shake of my head.

“I’m sorry?” Confusion graced his handsome features.

I smiled this time. “You called me Mrs. Swan. I’m not married so it’s just Ms.”

The smile on his face grew insanely brighter as his whole face lit up after my statement. “Well then _Ms._ Swan, I will leave you to your work so I can get back to my own.”

He turned and left me standing in my doorway, staring after him. He was gorgeous and I wouldn’t mind if he stepped in for Alec more often. But just as that thought popped into my mind, I saw him run his hand through his hair and settle on the back of his head. I felt a pang of jealousy when I saw the simple gold band that took residence on the third finger of his left hand.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~

I stared at the canvas for two hours looking back and forth between it and the pizzeria on the street. I would catch a glimpse of him as he came out to clean a table or speak to a customer and I could only stare until he was back in his shop. Every time I would see him, the vision I had for the canvas in front of me would change; my original idea didn’t seem right anymore.

I closed my eyes and thought of him standing in my doorway. Opening up to focus on the canvas one more time, the green of the rose bush now reminded me of the beautiful eyes that stared into mine for what seemed like hours. Now that I had his image in my mind the whole color concept of the painting didn’t work. The orange of the sunset needed to be deeper, so I added a light shading of red to give it a more burnt orange color.

Now that the sky had changed, the color of the flowers needed a change as well. They were no longer going to be pink roses, which signified the joy and sweetness of the moment. My mind’s eye created a bush with orange roses to imply a desire felt between the couple that would soon occupy the table. With my palette in hand, I took my knife and cut into the red, yellow and white paint to create a light shade of orange that would now make up the roses in the background.

The night wore on and the painting was finally coming together, but there was still one piece missing. The couple at the table now needed to be added to make this piece complete. The profiles of a man and a woman…friends…or lovers…facing each other in either a deep conversation or a prelude to a kiss. Their lips separated by a deep blue rose; a symbol of a wanted but completely unattainable love. I glanced down to the street again to a man whose very presence changed my vision.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~

My eyes snapped open to the sound of the rain pounding against my window. The curtains were still open and the lack of moonlight made the room seem darker. The sole source of illumination came from the small work light next to the blank canvas on the other side of the room. Disoriented by my surroundings, I scanned the darkness to find the nearest set of glowing red numbers – 6:30 pm. I’d slept the day away.

I was comfortable where I was but the looming deadline forced me off the couch. I stretched and tiptoed through the dark room not ready to disrupt the stillness to grab a bottle of water. I took a single drink when the pounding on the door caused me to lose my grip and the bottle crashed to the floor.

I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I crept silently to the door and looked out the peephole to see who could be out on such a night. I saw nothing, waited a second and looked again…still nothing. Just as I took a step away from the door, more banging made me jump. After making sure the chain was securely in place, I opened the door slowly and peeked out. I wasn’t expecting him to be standing outside my door when there was no reason for him to be here.

I shut the door, removed the chain, smoothed out the clothes I had fallen asleep in and opened the door to the beautiful man on the other side. He stared at me expectantly while my look was hesitant. _What is he doing here?_

I never took my eyes off him as he came closer and leaned towards me with his hands braced on the doorframe. 

“Take a walk with me.” His seductive voice filled the air.

“In this?” I questioned.

“Your eyes have invaded my every thought and your face has haunted me all day.” He brought his lips to my ear. “Please take a walk with me?”

I couldn’t speak with him looking at me with lust filled eyes and speaking to me with such beautiful words. I simply nodded, grabbed his hand and walked out the door. I hesitated at the main door before he pulled out a bright red umbrella to shelter us from the rain. The small umbrella kept us huddled together to stay dry as we walked the short distance to the small park down the street.

He turned under our sanctuary to look deep into my eyes. “What spell have you cast on me to make me want you so much?”

The world melted away with his words, leaving no one but us standing in the middle of this very public place. I felt myself lose control of my breathing as he lifted his right hand and placed it on my cheek while his left found a sliver of exposed skin at the small of my back. The feeling was electric and was only heightened by the feel of his lips on mine. The time for talking was done as an overwhelming passion took over our bodies.

I pulled away abruptly and stepped back into the pouring rain, putting distance between us after I felt the cold metal of his wedding band touch my skin. I was left panting in the rain while he remained under the protection of the umbrella. My hesitance did nothing to take the lust from his eyes.

“Do you not want me?” When I didn’t speak, he spoke for both of us. “I thought so.”

He dropped the umbrella and moved to me with a speed I had never witnessed before. He lifted me into his arms, carried me to the picnic table and laid my body out for display. Throwing away all reason, I grabbed his arm and pulled until his body covered mine. Before my mind registered the actions, our bodies were writhing together with no clothes impeding our desire.

Before I lost myself to the passion, my hand found his hair and guided his forehead to mine. With closed eyes and a ragged breath, I asked, “Can you love me?”

He pulled away slightly and spoke. “Open your beautiful eyes and ask me again.”

I slowly opened my eyes to see his beautiful face, but all I saw was the ceiling in my apartment. I was warm and dry and completely alone. The apartment was bright with the sunlight of the new day and I could only groan in disappointment as I reflected back on the most vivid dream of my life.

I shut my eyes tight again and lay still, missing the warmth of his arms, the purr of his voice and the heat created between us. As I recalled the scene, my eyes opened wide and I ran for my sketchpad. The picture I had set in the park was no longer a scene with a family running from the rain. Because of him, this painting morphed into something else – two lovers sharing a night of passion in the rain.

I dropped the sketchpad by my canvass and got to work. Ominous dark clouds covered the night sky, rain poured over the grey picnic table where a couple lay intertwined with arms and legs covering all exposed body parts that could be offensive to anyone. The couple had their foreheads pressed together, sharing a look meant for just the two of them. Just to the left of these two lovers was a bright red umbrella that added the smallest amount of color to the scene, which, in contrast, actually deepened the darker colors on the canvas.

Because there wasn’t the intricate detail to this piece, I was able to finish it by the end of the night. I took a few steps back to admire my work and I had to say that this turned out far better than my original idea would have. I was slightly worried that the amount of skin showing would offend some but overall, I was happy with the outcome. If it wasn’t sold at the show, I would have been more than pleased to see it adorning my walls in the future.

I began to clean up my brushes and as much of the paint as possible so I could be ready to start fresh in the morning when a knock echoed through the apartment. I knew it wasn’t Rosalie because she would have just walked in and I wasn’t expecting anyone so I was curious to see who was here at this time of night. I dried my hands and went to open the door.

Flashbacks of the dream crept into my head as he stood in the hallway again. It wasn’t the same scene as the dream, but it was close. He stood there looking somewhat awkward but grinning at me with a pizza box in one hand while the other was buried in his hair. I smiled through my confusion as I watched him fidget a little.

“Um…” he hesitated. “I don’t normally do things like this but I noticed that you hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break all day and I thought you might be hungry.” He held out the box, urging me to take it.

“Yeah I got so caught up in…wait.” His words caught up with me. “What do you mean you noticed? Were you watching me?”

His cheeks turned a subtle shade of red as a worried expression covered his face. “I’m sorry…really.” He swallowed, looking nervous. “It’s just when I talked to Alec this morning, he motioned towards your window and I saw you, looking completely absorbed in your work. I tried not to look throughout the day because I felt it was an invasion of your privacy but I couldn’t help it. When I noticed you hadn’t really moved all day I figured you hadn’t eaten and we had an extra pizza left over.”

I was too stunned to say anything. I wanted to interrupt and tell him that I hated being watched like that but I couldn’t force my lips to move. There was no malice behind his actions and I felt more flattered than angry that this gorgeous man had not only been watching me, but thought of me enough to bring me food when he thought I’d be hungry. 

When I didn’t speak, he continued. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He turned and rushed down the steps before I could stop him. The most I could do was shout a ‘thank you’ to his retreating form. His hand shot up in a wave but he didn’t turn around. A minute of staring at the now empty hallway was enough and I walked back inside to finish cleaning up and eat my specially delivered pizza.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~

The next two weeks passed in much the same way; dream-filled nights to give me inspiration and a day or two to bring the pieces to life. Until I met him, I had never created anything like these paintings before. Even I could see my desire for him coming to life on every canvas but, with each piece, my need was becoming so strong that I couldn’t bring it out without pain and heartache.

There were five days until the show and two more paintings needing to be finished but I couldn’t keep working…not like this. I watched him daily, becoming more and more depressed as he went about his business, keeping the promise he’d made the night he delivered my food. While he still haunted my dreams, he never looked my way and never showed up at my door again.

Today marked the third day sitting in front of a blank canvas. I couldn’t bring myself to work as every stroke of the paintbrush felt like a slash across my heart as I watched the beautiful man across the street. With my eyes focused on him, the paintbrush fell from my hands as a voice sounded in the silent room.

“Is staring at him helping?”

I rolled my eyes at her question, but didn’t offer any kind of answer. It was the first time Rosalie had been back since the day she told me to find myself. She had called a couple of times to make sure I was on track but, when I stopped answering her calls, she decided it was time for a visit. I heard her gasp from the other side of the room and looked to see what caught her eye.

“Bella, these are incredible.” She walked from painting to painting. “I’ve never seen you put so much passion into your work before. That man is good for you.”

“Good for me or good for my work, Rosalie?” There was no hiding the bitterness in my words.

“Both.” She turned and smiled at me but it faded once she saw my face. “So what’s the problem?”

I exhaled and spoke without taking my eyes off him. “The problem, Rosalie, is that no matter how good for me he might be, he’s someone I’ll never have.”

“Bella, look at me.” Her hand shook my shoulder and I turned to see her actually sitting in a stool next to me. “Being an artist, I know you’ve heard of a muse, right?” I nodded. “In all of history, a muse has generally been seen as a woman who inspires a man’s creativity. Well, I simply don’t believe that. I like to believe that a muse is _any_ power which inspires us to create great works. Honey, whether he knows it or not, that man down there has brought out the most amazing side of you and it’s that side of you that is reflected in every painting lying against that wall.”

She was right. I knew what I had been putting down on every canvas for the past two weeks were the best works of art I had ever personally created. There was never any doubt about it, but I never thought of him as being a “muse” to inspire it all.

“Now, I know you’re hurting right now because you’re wanting more with a man who has made you feel so much emotion, but we both know its not possible. You have to remember something though; the let down is just as powerful as the high you’ve been on for these few weeks.” She placed her hands on my cheeks and looked me straight in the eyes. “Use it, Bella. Use it to create a masterpiece.”

She kissed the top of my forehead and left my apartment. I remained frozen in place as I took some time to analyze her words. She always left me with the best advice and I knew I needed to listen but it was so hard. With one final look at him, I flipped the switch to turn off the light, leaving me in darkness to think.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~

The day before the show Rosalie was directing traffic in and out of my apartment to get all of my paintings loaded into the back of a truck so that they could be taken to the gallery. I walked outside with her and watched as the last piece was loaded. When the truck drove away, she turned to me and winked.

“It’s okay, Bella. Every piece you gave me was remarkable and that final one was exquisite. After tomorrow, there isn’t going to be single gallery owner, art collector or dealer in the city who doesn’t know your name.”

“Rosalie, thank you so much. You have no idea how much your words have meant to me. You gave me the kick in the ass I needed to get this done and, even though it may not have seemed like it sometimes, I really appreciated it.”

Just before she slid into her car, she tipped up her sunglasses and smirked at me. “Bella, I’ll kick as hard and as often as necessary to get that pretty little head of yours to give me work like that.”

With another little wink, she slipped into her car and sped away, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk.

“So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”

My breath caught in my throat as his voice rang in my ears. I turned to see him standing a few feet from me, hands shoved deep in his pockets and nervously kicking the curb. I didn’t understand how it could be, but his presence was both heart wrenching and relaxing all at the same time. I had to force myself to talk, knowing I couldn’t just ignore his question.

“Yeah, tomorrow will either make or break my career.” I blew out a deep breath. “I hope I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Well, if the level of commitment that I’ve seen is any indication, you have nothing to worry about.” I saw a panicked look in his eyes before it gave way to excitement. “Hey, why don’t you let me treat you to some fresh pizza? We could sit and talk and you could tell me about your work.”

“No!” I panicked and yelled at him.

I immediately regret saying no to him when I saw his excitement melt away, but I could never tell him about the pieces he personally inspired. I would die a thousand deaths if he, or God forbid his wife, ever found out what I really thought of him. She would hunt me down and chop me into a million pieces if she ever found out.

“I mean…I would love to, but I can’t. Tomorrow is gonna be huge and I have to get things ready and then get some rest.” _God I hope he bought that._

His foot started kicking the curb again and the guilt washed over me for lying to him. I wanted to say something, anything that would make him feel better but he beat me to it.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He turned to leave but stopped halfway and his eyes grabbed mine one last time. “If you get hungry later just call and I’ll have Alec bring something up.” He smiled but it didn’t fit his somber mood. “Goodnight Isabella.”

With those two final words, he also left me standing alone on the sidewalk staring after him.

~..~..~..~..~..~..~

The night of the show, I was treated like royalty. Rosalie had sent her personal assistant, Alice, to get me ready for the event. She was knocking at my door five hours early, ordering and rushing me around, claiming that we had no time to waste. I figured that she knew more about this stuff than I did, so I didn’t argue with her…well that and the fact that her intensity scared me a little.

She had me in the salon for hours getting my hair and nails done, and when we finished there, we were driven to one of the boutiques I would never be caught dead in to find an appropriate dress for the show. After leaving the boutique, we picked up some take out and went back to my apartment so we could eat before she could do my make-up and I dressed for the night.

When Alice showed up, I had thought five hours was way too much time but here I was walking out of my room with only five minutes to spare. She may have been pushy and a little overbearing but, I had to admit, the girl knew her stuff. She pulled me in front of a full-length mirror that she must have brought with her.

“Voila.” She beamed at me. “You, my dear, are a vision. All eyes will be on you tonight.”

“God, I hope not.” I laughed and she gave me a dirty look. I rolled my eyes and elaborated. “Alice, if they’re only looking at me, how are they going to fall in love with my work.”

“Oh right, good point.” Now she was laughing with me. “I’ll say then, for the first time in my career, I hope no one admires my work because I’ve seen yours and it is absolutely fabulous.”

“Thanks, Alice.”

“You’re welcome. Now get your pretty ass in gear and let’s go.”

The first hour was spent shaking hands and making small talk with some local gallery owners and other dealers that Rosalie said I needed to meet. I trusted her whole-heartedly so I followed her around and played the role of the excited new artist when, on the inside, I was really worried for my career and my future. I’d never had so many people scrutinizing my work before and I constantly felt like they were seeing it and then looking at me, thinking I was crazy for believing I was good enough to do this for a living. That feeling got even worse as Rosalie stood on a small platform and began to introduce me.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight for what I am sure is to be the first of many shows for this new, exciting and extremely talented young woman.” She smiled and winked at me. “When Isabella Swan walked into my office with her portfolio in hand, I thought to myself that there was potential there. Then, I had a chance to watch her work and the scenes I watched her create just from a simple conversation and a few visual prompts left me believing that one day her name will be among some of the great artists of our time. Please, help me welcome the amazing woman, whose brilliant vision created every spectacular work of art around this room…Ms. Isabella Swan.”

The applause was louder than I ever expected to receive, triggering my natural blushing response. The noise died down and I knew I was expected to say something but I had no idea what to say to everyone. I decided to go with something generic just so I could get out of this spotlight.

“Thank you all so much for coming. I really hope you can look at each piece and they invoke in you the vision and feelings I had when each one was created.” 

I didn’t know what else to say so I looked to Rosalie for a rescue. She graciously thanked the crowd again and told them to enjoy the show. The crowd broke apart while I was allowed to step down and, with no more specific people to meet, just move freely to talk and visit with anyone who wanted my attention.

I circled the room a couple of times just listening to the comments and observations made by the crowd of people. A few words and phrases like ‘beautiful’ and ‘brilliant’ and ‘perfect use of color’ were used more often than others, but the one that caught my ear was said while I was passing one of the art dealers I had been introduced to. He must have seen me walking by because he called to get my attention.

“Excuse me, Isabella.”

“Mr. Volturi, please call me Bella.” I took his offered hand. “How can I help you?”

“If I am being so familiar then please, call me Aro.” He squeezed my hand and smiled. “I am very curious to know what in your heart changed while you were putting the pieces for this show together.”

“Excuse me? I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“Bella, I’ve been around the art world for a long time and I can point out three distinct periods in your life and then sort certain groups of paintings into each one.”

My confused look made him laugh so he continued.

“Look around the room with me.” He easily pointed out the first eight pieces I had finished before I had lost my creative flow. “These pieces are so random, each one individual and not connected to anything else. Don’t get me wrong, they are good but they aren’t even on the same level as the rest of your work.”

It was my stunned expression now that made him laugh.

“Can you not see it? There was so much passion and fire guiding your hand when you created these,” he waved his hand toward every painting I did after I met _him_ , “that it absolutely jumps off the canvas. Not only that, but these two here contain that same fire and passion as the rest but there is also an intense feeling of loss that grabs your heart and doesn’t want to let go.”

Shocked would have been a huge understatement as I listened to him describing my paintings. There _was_ feeling behind each one; the feeling of need, want and pure desire for a married man that I could never have. It was a passionate relationship that only existed in my dreams, but even in my dreams I knew I needed to let him go and that explained the loss and despair of the final two. But how would I ever explain that to him.

“Well, Mr.--,” he started to correct me, “sorry. Aro, the pieces you pointed out first were my attempt to paint any scene that caught my eye and create beauty. For the rest, what can I say but, things begin and things end and this is how I dealt with it along the way.”

It was his turn to look puzzled as he looked back and forth between me and the wall behind me where my final two paintings hung alone. “But I don’t understand, how could you feel such a strong sense of loss for something, or should I say someone, who is clearly not gone?”

“Trust me, Aro…he’s gone.” My smile faltered as a wave of pain hit me as I mourned the loss of the relationship that never was. “He was someone I never had in the first place.”

“Well then, you might try talking to _him_ about that.” He nodded to something over my shoulder. “I must say, dear Bella, you have captured your subject perfectly.”

When I turned, the hurt I felt instantly changed to panic as I saw _him_ just staring at the last painting in my collection; the piece that put my heartbreak on display as he walked out of my dreams.

The piece contained few colors; the walls of the bedroom were black, the floor was colored grey to show the contrast between it and the white sheets of the empty bed. The golden glow from the doorway cast a spotlight on the couple as they parted ways. He stood with his body turned sideways, halfway between the open door and the girl crying on the floor. His eyes were on his hands as they focused on the red heart with a gold band wrapped securely around it. The girl, lying crumpled on the floor, tried to hold herself up with one arm while the other clutched at her chest. Tears dripped from her chin as others splashed in the pool of tears collecting around the red heart, lying in pieces in front of her.

_What is he doing here?_

I felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and I was gasping for breath as my feet moved me backwards. He was looking at the one painting that he should have never seen. I took a few more steps back before two hands grabbed my arms.

“Look at his face, Bella,” Aro whispered in my ear. “This isn’t over… not for him. Go to him.”

With a little shove, Aro pushed me towards him. Two steps in his direction and my feet stopped moving again. I couldn’t do what Aro asked. I couldn’t face him. He must have known I couldn’t do it because I felt a hand at my back, ushering me forward. Every step closer to him closed off another part of my lungs, making it even harder to breathe. I was feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen when I heard Aro speak to him.

“Excuse me, Sir.” 

Aro took a small step in front of me as _he_ tilted his head in the direction of Aro’s voice but didn’t turn to look.

“My name is Aro Volturi.”

“Edward Cullen.” He absently said his name, but never took his eyes off the painting.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cullen. I am an art collector always on the lookout for very distinct paintings and I see that you are also admiring the one painting in this room that I would love to add to my collection. Tell me, do you love this piece as much as I do?”

“I…no,” he shook his head in hesitation. “I need to understand it.”

I was dying inside listening to Aro have this conversation with him. I didn’t know what he was trying to do but he was pushing a situation that was completely hopeless.

“Well, let me help you out with that. Allow me to introduce you to the artist?” His hand grasped mine as he stepped aside. “Edward Cullen, please meet…”

“Isabella?” His voice was questioning, his eyes uncertain.

“Ahh it seems the two of you already know each other, I will take my leave then. Mr. Cullen, it was pleasure.”

Suddenly, in a room full of people, he and I were standing alone. I couldn’t speak… couldn’t move… couldn’t breathe as I stood in front of him, my eyes locked with his, waiting as he tried to form the words to convey his confusion.

“Take him in the back and talk,” Rosalie whispered into my ear. “I’ll cover for you.”

I didn’t speak and I didn’t even look to see if he was following me as I walked past him, making my way to the back office. I entered the room and immediately placed both hands on the desk to steady myself. The click of the door made me jump and my heart rate picked up speed as I felt his presence in the room.

“Isabella?” His soft voice held a million questions that I couldn’t answer.

I kept my eyes glued to the table that was keeping my shaking legs from collapsing. My silence, however, didn’t cease his questions.

“Isabella, please,” he begged. “Please explain to me how you could paint those things?”

“Why are you here?” My whispered words practically echoed in the quiet room.

“Y-your friend gave me a flyer and told me I needed to see your work.” I heard the breath leave his body before he spoke again. “I don’t understand, Isabella.”

How in the world was I going to explain to him why he starred in almost every painting in that room? How was I supposed to tell him that I had been watching him and dreaming about him every day? The touch to my back surprised me and I quickly jumped to the side, only now I was facing him.

“Don’t.” I wanted nothing more than for him to touch me, but I knew he shouldn’t.

I turned away from his inquiring eyes but I still couldn’t answer. I didn’t have the words to explain. I jumped again as I felt his hands grasp my arms and, when I struggled to pull away, his grip tightened and he pulled me to his chest.

“Isabella, I’m not going to pretend that I know art and the faces may not be completely clear, but I know those paintings were of me.” His voice was low but there was a hint of sadness to it.

Every pull I made to get out of his grasp was met with a pull of his own to keep me tight against his chest. I knew if I didn’t get away from him that I was going to end up doing something that we would both regret and I couldn’t let that happen.

“Please let me go,” I begged.

“I can’t let you go, Isabella. Not until you tell me.”

“I can’t.” I spoke through gasping breaths, the feel of his body pressed against mine made it hard to think clearly. I wanted to turn around so badly and hold him to me and never let him go.

He lowered his head and spoke into my ear. “I need to know. Why can’t you tell me?”

Shivers ran through me and a blanket of goose bumps covered my body, caused by his breath floating across my ear.

“Because it wouldn’t make a difference.” I took a deep breath. “Telling you doesn’t change anything.”

“Every painting in that room changes things.” His arms wrapped around my shoulders, his head still at my ear. “Every painting tells me that you feel something for me and I need to know if what you feel is as much as I’ve been feeling for you.”

As good as his arms felt around me, it was wrong. I slid out of his grasp as quickly as I could. He must not have expected it, because he looked surprised when I faced him now.

“You can’t say things like that.” I felt the tears wanting to come but I held them back. “It’s not fair; not to me and definitely not to your…wife.”

The mention of his wife broke my heart and opened the floodgate as I felt the tears begin to flow like rivers down my cheeks. I took advantage of his momentary shock and made my move to the door. The handle was in my grasp and I pulled the door open a fraction of an inch before he was behind me again, pushing the door closed.

“I’m not married, Isabella.”

“You’re lying.” My tears wouldn’t stop and the devastating pain in my chest was making it harder to speak. “I saw your ring. You didn’t even try to hide it.”

He turned me around and my back fell flat against the door. His hands moved to either side of my face and his thumbs fought the losing battle against my falling tears. My eyes were cast down, not giving in to the desire to look at him.

“Isabella, look at me,” he commanded.

I shook my head like a stubborn child.

“If you’re not going to look at me then at least listen.” He took a breath. “Isabella, I’m not married. I haven’t been for a long time. My _ex_ -wife,” he emphasized the ‘ex’, “walked out on me seven years ago.”

I looked up at him then, searching his eyes for any indication of a lie, but there was nothing but sincerity written in his eyes and across his face. He continued with his explanation.

“I’ve worn that ring every day since she left because I wasn’t ready to move on and that made it easier to keep myself guarded, to keep women away. I don’t know what it was about you the night we met that made me want to get close to you. But for the first time since she walked out, I let my guard down and took the ring off.”

Out of reflex, I reached up and touched his left hand and my fingers traced his. The ring _was_ gone. He allowed me to pull his hand away from my face and hold it in front of me to see with my own eyes what my fingers didn’t find. I looked back up to his face and his eyes had softened.

“I knew after one completely crazy dream the night we met that I wanted to get to know you. I asked Alec about you, I watched you all day and I thought I had my chance when I delivered your dinner, but you seemed angry that I was watching you and I realized I had done something wrong so I left. I hadn’t been around a woman in so long that made me feel what you did, and I had no clue how to tell you about it.”

“Why didn’t you ever come back?”

“I told you I would never overstep my bounds again. I talked to Alec again and he said you ordered from us quite frequently, so I wanted to wait until you ordered again and I would have run to your door but your orders stopped.” His eyes were cast down this time. “I assumed you were upset because I had been watching and you didn’t want to have anything to do with me or my business.”

“That wasn’t it at all.” I reached a shaking hand to touch his face now and it brought his eyes back to mine. I decided in that moment that I had to lay it all on the line and tell him the whole truth. “I was so caught up in my work that I couldn’t stop. I hope to God that I don’t sound crazy when I say this, but you asked me how I could create those paintings. You were in every thought I had either awake or asleep. You spoke of one crazy dream, but I had so many and most of them are hanging on those walls out there. In my dreams, you were mine and I was able to love you but I knew it wasn’t real and I had to let the dream go. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

I put distance between us so I could fully confess my obsession with him. The lack of sound told me he had stayed rooted in place as he listened. I kept my back turned so I didn’t have to look at him while I bared my soul. 

“The emptiness and loss I’d felt over my one-sided relationship was crushing. I couldn’t work. I spent three days sitting in front of a blank canvas but I couldn’t take my eyes off you and that only made it worse. Rosalie came to check on me when I stopped answering her calls. She saw every painting and knew you were the reason for the drastic change in my work. She also knew that you were the one to cause me to sink into that depression.”

I took a few steadying breaths and continued.

“She told me that I should use the emptiness and loss that I was feeling and turn it into something that helped me create my final two pieces. In the one you were looking at, my heart was broken because your heart was bound by marriage. I knew I couldn’t have you, so I had to let you go and my heart put the pain and desperation out there for the world to see.”

I didn’t realize that while I was talking he had moved to stand behind me. His hands fell on my shoulders as I was whipped around to face him. His lips caught mine in a searing kiss as his arms wrapped around my waist to pull me closer to him. My hands were on his shoulders but just as they began to slide behind his neck, he broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against mine as he spoke.

“Isabella, I’m not married or bound in any way, but if you give me the chance to get to know you, the relationship we both dreamed of could come true.”

His second kiss began slowly, but quickly turned just as passionate as the first. His hands were around my waist again and my hands had moved to the nape of his neck as I pulled him in closer to hopefully deepen the kiss.

The knock at the door broke our connection. Rosalie’s voice drifted through the door telling me that I had to get back out on the floor. I told her I would be there in a minute and she left us alone again. I was pulled into his arms for a tight embrace and I returned it with all the feeling I was finally able to express. This beautiful man could really be mine and I was going to do what it took to make that happen.

“I better get back out there,” I said as I pulled away from him.

“Well then, I better go and leave you to your work.”

I didn’t want him to leave, not yet. “Will you stay?”

His smile was bright and there was a spark in his eye that wasn’t there before. “If I stay, I won’t let you out of this room but if I go, you can concentrate on your work here and then come home to me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Wow, I’ve never had such a good reason to go home before. But what are you going to do, sit outside my apartment and wait for me?”

He chuckled. “No silly girl. I live across the street above my shop. You can go to the side door, ring the bell and I’ll let you in. We have a lot to talk about.”

I nodded. “A lifetime’s worth.”

With one last kiss, we left the office to head our separate ways. I found Rosalie and Aro together discussing his purchase of my painting. I thanked them both for the hand they played in bringing Edward and I together. The three of us looked toward the door in time to see Edward looking back with a dazzling smile before heading home for the night where he would wait for me to finally join him.


End file.
